Leaving me is not an option
by Hellen says what's up
Summary: Combeferre finds a suicide note from Enjolras lying on his bed. After searching and searching, the Amis assume Enjolras is dead…five years later however, the impossible occurs.
1. I don't want to know

Leaving me is not an option

Combeferre finds a suicide note from Enjolras lying on his bed. After searching and searching, the Amis assume Enjolras is dead…five years later however, the impossible occurs. No ships.

**This was written at 12:00 and I'm tired out of my mind, but I couldn't sleep. It's a little rough and not as good as it could have been, but next chapter will be better (hopefully) Comments are welcome! (Not proof read)**

**English was not my first language, so I apologise**

It was just a normal night in Paris…that's what it seemed anyway. Combeferre arrived at the apartment, soaked from head to toe in rain from the bitter winter weather. He awkwardly shrugged his jacket from his shoulders as he used the back of his boot to close the apartment door. Enjolras had left a lit candle upon the wooden table in the centre of the room. Slipping out of his soaked boots and neatly hanging his jacket behind his desk chair, he checked the wall clock that hung lopsided against the wall, the minute hand slightly stiff. It read eleven o'clock. Combeferre couldn't help but wonder why Enjolras was asleep so early. Usually, that man would be up until around three or four AM, writing plans for the revolution or speeches for the people…it was rather baffling to come home to such a soundless apartment.

Combeferre blew the last candle out, leaving only the light from the street lamps that leaked in through the thin glass of the windows. Combeferre held back an abrupt yawn as he made his way to his own room. He stopped just as he was about to pass Enjolras' door…he couldn't help but notice how quiet it was…it was almost haunting. Combeferre thought it'd be best to check on the man, just to see if he was okay.

Combeferre hesitantly took hold of the silver door handle and pushed it down. He peered in through the gap in the doorway…to find the bed empty. Confused, Combeferre opened the door. The room was unlit and the bed was still made. Perhaps Enjolras hadn't arrived home yet…but the jacket he was wearing earlier that day was placed upon the stand. Combeferre didn't feel much for the situation at first. After all, Enjolras was a grown man. He can take care of himself.

It was only when Combeferre spotted a strange slide of yellow paper sitting upon the grey sheets that he began to suspect something wasn't right. He walked over to Enjolras bedside and picked up the paper. It was folded in half with the words, _I'm sorry _written upon the front. Combeferre froze, unable to think (or believe) what could be within this letter. He noticed his fingertips begin to shake as he awkwardly unfolded the paper. What came next was worse than death itself.

_Dear Mon Ami,_

_My life isn't going the way I planned it…at all. It's not what I wanted, and it's not what you wanted. Every day, I watch my true friends risk their lives for something I set upon them. I never meant for this to happen. I never asked for this. I feel like such a coward…and the truth is I am a coward. I'm a hopeless human being, because I can't face the fact that I'm responsible for all your pain…_

_My dreams are failing, my friend. My dreams of a new world. I was stupid to believe they'd ever exist in reality…and now, I've managed to blind myself with empty hope. There's nowhere for me to run Combeferre…there's no escape from this torment._

_I'm not sure how to explain what exactly it is I'm experiencing. I guess I've suddenly come to realisation that my dreams are hollow and that without my dreams, I have no purpose. I devoted my entire life to the revolution, and for what? So I can watch my friends die for me? No._

_Without my dreams, I'm just a burning shell…a useless life form. I'm not as strong as I make myself out to be. I'm weak. I'm brought to my knees by the thought of having no purpose. I want a reason to live Combeferre, but I have none._

_Don't worry about the future Mon Ami. Just worry about what your new porpoises in life must be. You haven't dedicated your entire life to the cause, like I have. You must leave it be and continue your life without me. The same goes to the others of the ABC._

_I'm sorry…I'm being such a useless coward…people look up to me…but they really shouldn't, for I am weaker than all of them. You, however, are stronger than all, and that's why I always looked up to you. Please, don't pity me for what I've done. I chose this path, 'Ferre._

_I said I'd die for the cause, and since I cannot, I'll take my own life as payment._

_I suppose this is goodbye then…perhaps we'll see each other again. That is, if God does not send us to opposite ends._

_Goodbye,_

_Enjolras_

Combeferre felt his heart stop. He couldn't breathe for several minutes. He felt himself shake beneath his skin. If it weren't for him clutching the bedside with his right hand, he would have fallen to his knees. _He's…gone…_ At that moment, he let out an intruding scream that sent shivers down his own spine. Falling back against the bed, he dropped the useless note on the floor, his hand over his mouth to stop him from crying out again. He took short, urgent breaths, feeling as though he were having a panic attack. _Enjolras…you…_ He wasn't sure whether he started crying before or after he'd finished reading, but either way, tears were falling and they couldn't seem to stop.

TBC


	2. Falling is just like flying

Enjolras stood, barefoot, by the edge of the bridge, his hands gripped upon the wet railing. The wind whisked through the air with certain viciousness, biting at his hands and the open collar of his neck. The young man felt his entire body go stiff as a shiver of uncertainty crept up his spine. The cold was haunting, and yet somewhat comforting at the same time. The icy wind helped numb the fear…perhaps it would numb the pain. Enjolras had always wondered whether dying was as simple as closing your eyes and counting to ten. After his father had passed away, his mother had simply told him that he'd gone to sleep. It sounded so painless…and somewhat inviting.

As his mind continued to wonder, he gripped ever so tightly onto the rusting copper rail as he pushed himself over to stand upon the stone ledge of the bridge. Climbing over…now that was easy. It was the letting go of the rail that would be the main challenge. Waiting…wondering…

Enjolras stared down into the dying waves that formed in the dark abyss beneath the bridge. He wondered if he'd freeze to death before he drowned…though, if he managed to hit his head on the way down, it might just make the whole process easier. Looking down at the maddening bed of water, Enjolras let himself breathe for a moment and stared up at the pitch black sky, trying to picture it more as flying than falling.

_Don't be a coward…this is what you need Enjolras. This is where you belong._

Enjolras felt his grip on the railing loosen by the slightest touch, when an unrecognised voice behind him spoke with a strange calmness.

"Young man, what are you doing up there?" Enjolras turned awkwardly, his hand still gripping the rail. A tall man in a black top-hat and matching coat stood on the other side of the railing. He seemed somewhat familiar, though Enjolras couldn't recall ever meeting a man such as him.

Enjolras turned away, his heart rate increasing either from shock or from pure embarrassment…though, he wasn't sure why he felt embarrassed. "Nothing, sir…"

"Are you sure about that?" the man seemed to keep his cool, though, he eyed Enjolras with a hint of anxiety.

"Please, sir, it's none of your concern." Enjolras was fully aware of how much of a lunatic he must have looked…not that it mattered. "Could you just…"

The man looked him up and down, taking a step closer to him, though, Enjolras hardly noticed. "Is…something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Why don't you step back over the railing, young man…it's unhealthy for you to be spending your time out here it this ghastly weather."

Enjolras felt his hand shake, feeling as though he were moments away from fainting, just from the turn of events. "…I don't think I can sir." He replied under his breath. The man simply stared, unsure of what to say, or what to do. "I'm tired, sir. I simply…can't."

"Tired of what? Surely, being tired doesn't necessarily mean you must end your life." The man spoke, though, trying to keep his voice low, in order to keep control of this situation. Worst case scenario, the young man lets go of the railing, falls to his death, and is never seen again…being a man of God, he couldn't just walk away from this boy without putting up a fight.

"With all due respect sir, you couldn't possibly understand what I'm going through at this moment in my life." Enjolras said, turning his head over his shoulder, though, not looking directly at the man.

"Young man, God did not create us, just so we could end our own lives by jumping off bridges."

"Then why did he create me?" Enjolras asked, louder than intended, though, it allowed him to let off some steam.

There was a moment of silence. Silence so tense that a single sound could have killed it. "Well, I wouldn't know. That's for you to decide, my boy." The man still spoke with such an even tone, even though; Enjolras was about _this_ close to letting his hand slip from the railing.

"…I thought I knew what my purpose in life was…but I was wrong…the truth is that God never intended to make me. I thought I were to become a man who would one day, lead a group of revolutionaries to free the world from the hands of the evil…but it's impossible…and who am I to send men to their deaths? I have no purpose so clearly God made a mistake…"

"God makes no mistakes." He said simply. "Only a fool would believe so…if you truly believe you have no purpose, then you practically insult God's very name…God doesn't want this of you. Please, for the love of our father, just, don't." Enjolras' breathing faltered as the man's words sunk in. Enjolras suddenly came to realisation that he was standing on the edge of a bridge, with nothing but the strength of his arms holding him from falling. His heart jumped at the sudden feeling and held his grip on the railing. For several moments, he just stood and thought. "Would you like a hand?" Enjolras found he was unable to reply, so he merely nodded.

He turned awkwardly from the river, feeling as though he were about to be sick. The man reached a sturdy hand towards him and Enjolras took it, barely able to stand on his own two feet. Gradually, he made his way over the railing where he practically collapsed from shock, fear, pain, regret…and confusion.

TBC


	3. Try to keep your head held high

**I CAN'T WRITE THIS! ****AAARRRRGH!**

**Ugh, you have no idea how much stress this one story has caused me! GOD, I swear, I tried my best. I CAN'T WRITE SADNESS! IT'S NOT WORKING! This is all I could do, sadly. I HAD NO IDEA WRITING ABOUT LOSS COULD BE SO HARD! ****GAAAAH!**** I really did try my best, but I CAN'T DO IT! I hope this isn't too terrible. I spent about three days just staring at the blank word document. I've got about five different drafts of this ONE CHAPTER.**

**This is the best I could do. I'M SO SORRY.**

* * *

Combeferre sat by the window of Le Musian, staring through the new sky of day. The morning lashes of sunlight that rose into the blue canvas stung his tired eyes, though; he didn't care much for the pain. He simply stared…and watched as the beautiful light painted the sky with wonderful colours of orange and red. The air was set to a magnificent gold as the sun continued to paint through the canvas, spreading its colour like a bird does its wings. To Combeferre, a sunrise was just another everyday occurrence…but to Enjolras, it was much more. He saw it as a new day about to be born from the depths of the old world. He saw it as a fresh start…a new beginning. To him, it radiated so much beauty, that he himself were mesmerised…

…_Now if only he was here to see it…_

Les Amis had been searching all night, and yet, not a single trace of him was found. It was as though he'd disappeared of the face of the earth…and perhaps he had. After all, Enjolras had always been the adventurous type. Combeferre placed his hand on his forehead, taking a moment to breathe.

No one could deny it…the Musian did feel much barer without Enjolras standing upon its ground. They did not sing without him there. They did not laugh without him there. They did not drink without him there. It was just hollow and unbearable silence.

Courfeyrac stood at the other end of the room, his back pressed against the wall and his eyes closed. For the first time in his life, he found himself lost for words. Enjolras was by far the most courageous man he knew. He was a man of marble, stronger than any other with a heart of fire and words of freedom that lit passion into the eyes of man…is it possible for marble to just crack? It had struck him unexpectedly…until that moment, he'd always seen Enjolras as some invisible man of gold…but in fact, Enjolras was merely human. Perhaps he'd taken his courage a step too far. A man can only hold a weight for so long, before his bones begin to break.

He wouldn't care to admit it, but Courfeyrac had actually been having a constant pain within his chest. It struck him right in the heart, like a needle or a knife. He hadn't ever experienced anything like it. The feeling that he was missing something within his heart was truly overwhelming. It made him want to break down and just cry…but he still had the asset to contain himself…for now at least.

"I put it upon myself…" Combeferre virtually whispered, unable to tare his eyes away from the sky, afraid that the light might disappear. "I put it upon myself to watch him. I put it upon myself to make sure he stayed sane. I'm meant to be the one who pulls him from the ground, not let him fall-"

"You can't blame yourself for what he did." Courfeyrac interrupted. "He made his own decision…whether you like it or not, he's gone." Combeferre felt his blood turn cold as he thought through the past forty-eight hours. For a moment, Combeferre just sat in silence. "Perhaps you should go home. This is simply too much for one man alone to take Mon Ami. I'd care to walk you home if you'd—"

"He's an idiot!" Courfeyrac shot back as Combeferre stood and hit his fist against the clear glass of the window, causing a spiral of cracks to form in the top right corner of the glass. Courfeyrac stared in shock as Combeferre stared down at the floor, his breathing heavy and uneven. His body was shaking uncontrollably and he kept catching on his own breath. "He's a mindless imbecile!" he felt tears begin to brim his eyes, though, he couldn't care less for them anymore. "Enjolras is meant to be the one who never falters! I believed him to be strong…and then he just gives up! He expects me to just forget his existence! He's a coward who can't face the world, that's what he is! A downright disgrace! I hate the man! I hate him for putting false hope in my eyes! He belongs in hell!" Combeferre violently struck another hit to the window, causing the cracks in the glass to spread like a spider's web, about a few more hits away from collapsing. Before he could strike the window again, Courfeyrac ran to his side and restrained him by his wrists. Combeferre broke down into tears. Courfeyrac comforted him, and himself.

* * *

Enjolras woke to blinding light leaking in from the open windowsill. It took him a moment or two to focus his vision. His head was pounding as his heart rate beat at an abnormal pace. He found his mouth was dry as sandpaper and his lips were cracked from dehydration. He was lying upon an old maroon bed made from solid oak. The matrass felt stiff against his back and the sheets that lay above him were paper thin. He began to sit up slowly, minding the noisy bed springs as he heaved himself to a sitting position. The first thing he noticed was that he was no longer wearing his own clothes. His old shirt and black slacks had been replaced with a crisp white shirt, which was a few sizes too large, and a pair of baggy grey trousers.

The walls were layered with a strange floral coloured paper with hand painted red and white roses dancing upon the surface. Aside from the bed, there was only two pieces of furniture in the room. An old cabinet painted pure white, and the wooden bedside table that sat on the left side of his bed against the wall. On top of the bedside sat his rusted silver watch with a web of cracks springing from the right corner of the glass. Through complete and utter habit, he reached for his watch and began to fumble to strap it back onto his right wrist, using the golden streak of light from the window to help him fasten the strap.

As he was doing so, Enjolras heard faint footsteps nearing through the hallway. There was a light knock at the door, so quiet that if the room hadn't been so soundless, Enjolras would have never heard it. A few seconds later, the door was opened. The rusty hinges creaked open as the man from the night before paced through the doorway. "Ah, good. You're awake. I was beginning to fear you never would." The man dressed in similar clothes to the night before, aside from a change of shirt. He held a floral china mug of warm tea in his left hand. He cautiously handed the mug to Enjolras, who didn't hesitate to swig it down his throat, feeling grateful for the warmth it provided. "Forgive me for the accommodations. This is all I can offer you. It's not first rate, but it keeps a roof over my head."

Enjolras nodded, feeling a tinge of awkwardness as he sat in the bed. He placed the mug onto the bedside and looked up at the man. "Um…Monsieur…"

"Fauchelevent." He smiled.

"Monsieur Fauchelevent…I, uh, never thanked you…for saving my life." Enjolras' voice lacked its usual confidence, which was fairly out of character for a man such as him. "My mind was just…in the clouds...I'm sorry."

Fauchelevent couldn't help but pity the boy. So young, and so lost. He seemed to not know his place in the world…he wanted to know why a boy such as himself would wish to end his own life. "I wish to speak with you more…but I'm afraid I haven't the time. I'll leave you in the capable hands of my daughter. She's asleep at the moment, but I shouldn't be too long. Just…try to rest, my boy."

As Fauchelevent turned to exit the room, Enjolras spoke once more. "Monsieur…I really am…sorry."

He simply grinned. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I just do whatever a man should. Now, rest."

TBC


End file.
